


No Acting Required

by ThatgirlnamedEleanor



Category: A Very Potter Musical
Genre: Filming, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, film extras, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatgirlnamedEleanor/pseuds/ThatgirlnamedEleanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quirrell is a bored teacher. Voldemort is the leader of a dance group who desperately wants a career in entertainment. When they both turn up to be extras in a movie that's filming in a restaurant near to where they both live, and get sat at a table together and are told to talk, they don't exactly get along. However, when they actually start talking, they find out they might be more compatible than they originally thought... Muggle au btw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Acting Required

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Sorry I haven't posted a fic in ages, school stuff's been preventing me from writing. Just a warning... i've never been an extra in a film, or even been on a film set, so this might all be ridiculously inaccurate. Hope you enjoy (please don't forget to leave me a comment if you do, they keep me going)!!! :D

The atmosphere on the film set- a restaurant near where Quirrell lived- was insane. People rushed everywhere, talking and yelling and looking horribly stressed; doing jobs themselves or telling others what to do. Quirrell stood in with the other extras, reading Emma by Jane Austen on his phone to avoid having to talk to people. Quirrell was many things, but one thing he was not was a people person. 

Besides, some of these people looked downright scary. There was a particular trio of them, extras like him, standing (thankfully) quite a distance away, who looked absolutely terrifying. All three of them (a woman loudly complaining about all of the “peons” here, a sneering blonde man who seemed to be practicing pirouettes and a second man who Quirrell couldn't see entirely, but who seemed to be tall and unusually pale, with slicked back hair) were all dressed entirely in black, with creepy matching tattoos that looked like skulls with something coming out of the mouths (it was hard to tell what at this distance and he certainly didn't feel like getting closer to find out). 

Quirrell began to watch them with curiosity. Were they some sort of gang? They were clearly here together, though the blonde man seemed to be solely focused on looking down on people and his dancing, and the woman on complaining and fawning over the tall pale guy. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to her though… He wished some people would move out of the way so he could see what the guy looked like. He’d never seen anyone that pale before. 

It didn't really matter though. His eyes dropped back to his phone and he carried on reading, reflecting absentmindedly on how glad he was that he hadn't chosen a career in acting. All of this waiting around was boring as hell.

xxXxx

Voldemort had seriously given up trying to care about what Bellatrix was saying. He’d tried to listen at first, but she just went on and on and it was all bullshit too, just complaints about anything and everything. Was she never satisfied? Lucius wasn't helping to alleviate his boredom either; in fact he wasn't helping with anything really. They were extras on a film set; was now really a good time to be practicing pirouettes? He sighed. At least he hadn't let all of the other Death Eaters come, that really would've been hellish. 

In a desperate search for entertainment, of any sort, Voldemort let his eyes drift around the restaurant, staring in turn at the table where the two main actors were going to be sitting, the lights on the ceiling, the other extras… His eyes eventually settled upon this random extra standing at the other side of the big group of extras. Most of the guy was obscured by some dickheads standing in the way, but he could see enough to know that that guy had the right idea; he’d brought along his phone. Why hadn't he done that? He looked away from the man, wished for the fiftieth fucking time that things would start happening soon, and resumed his bored staring off into space.

xxXxx

Before Quirrell actually went mad with boredom, the director or assistant director or whoever started shouting at people to move the extras into place for the first take. The two main actors were to sit at one of the tables in the very centre of the restaurant, the one with with ridiculously expensive camera equipment set up around it, and the extras were to be used to fill in the background tables to make it look as though the restaurant was busy. Quirrell stuffed his phone into his pocket and waited to be told what to do. As he waited and various people were moved into place, he found himself looking toward the three scary people again… and saw the tall pale guy properly for the first time. 

He had expected him to be terrifying like the other two, but he wasn’t. He was actually… hot. Really hot. Not traditionally hot: he was far too pale for that, but he had really lovely cheekbones, and he was very fit. He found his eyes wandering, looking the man up and down… yep, definitely good looking. Another thing that helped was that rather than looking angry or disdainful or scary like the other two, he simply looked bored. Quirrell certainly sympathised with that. 

“Excuse me, you need to come this way.” a woman, clearly a member of the film crew, said. Quirrell quickly turned his eyes away from the man and was lead by the woman to a little two person table in a corner of the restaurant. He sat down, and with an absence of anything else to do, he picked up his phone again and continued reading. What was he even supposed to do when the cameras started rolling, anyway? He’d never been an extra before and no one had thought to explain. He’d thought that because they were filming in a restaurant he’d be sat with someone, but apparently not. He tried not to let the fact that he had literally no idea what to do terrify him, and got lost in Jane Austen’s words…

Until he was interrupted by someone, presumably another extra, being pushed towards the seat across from him by another film crew member. His eyes flicked upwards… and he nearly jumped out of his skin. 

It was the tall pale guy from earlier. 

xxXxx

He was adorable. That was Voldemort’s first impression of the guy that he was going to have to sit across a table from for the rest of the morning- who, he noticed, was the guy with a phone from earlier. The way he stared up at him, wide-eyed and startled, with the slightest hint of a blush… adorable. And was that a flicker of fear in his eyes…?

Voldemort waited to feel it- that jolt of power, the thrill that someone feared him- and felt… nothing? That was really strange. Actually, if he thought about it, he felt kind of… negative about that idea. He didn't want to make this guy fear him? What the heck?! He loved making people fear him! He was the Dark Lord for God’s sake! That was what he did!

He realised that whilst he’d been puzzling through that for the past 30 seconds, he’d actually been smiling at the guy! Whoever this guy was, he was clearly having a bad effect on him. After all, he had a reputation to uphold. He quickly schooled his features into a something he hoped looked disinterested and vaguely threatening, and sat down. 

“Hello?” the guy said hesitantly, looking bemused at the sudden change in Voldemort’s facial expression.

“Hi.” Voldemort snarled. Normally, when he wanted people to fear him, a bit of snarling did the trick.

Not with this guy, it seemed. This guy just looked slightly pissed and shook his head. “I was just trying to be friendly…” he muttered, his eyes abruptly leaving Voldemort’s and dropping back to his phone. Voldemort ignored a sudden stab of… guilt? Why should he feel guilty? So he’d pissed off one guy. Big deal. He’d hurt loads of people in his life. So why should this (adorable, beautiful, cute) stranger be any different? 

xxXxx

Quirrell thought he’d never changed his opinion of someone so rapidly. When he’d first seen who it was- the pale hot guy from earlier- he’d been shocked, startled… and excited. He knew he’d blushed slightly. And then the guy had smiled at him, and he had such a beautiful smile and Quirrell had butterflies…

And then the guy had ruined it all by being a complete asshole. Quirrell supposed that should have been obvious from the start, what with his scary outfit and his dickhead friends. He didn't know why he was so disappointed. Obviously, the fact that he now had to sit across from, and act with, this guy for the rest of the morning, was inconvenient, but he somehow felt there was more to it than that…

Sighing slightly, Quirrell continued to read.

xxXxx

It took half an hour for the two main actors to be sat down and the camera angles and lighting prepared, and in that half hour neither Quirrell nor the pale guy had spoken a word. Quirrell had thought about trying to initiate a conversation once or twice, but what would that have achieved? Probably more snarling from that asshole. Instead, he’d kept his eyes firmly glued upon his phone screen, and thankfully the guy had ignored him. If only they could do the same for the rest of the day.

“Alright everybody!” The director (Quirrell presumed) yelled loudly; the room went silent. “Extras- I want you to just have simple conversations, pretend to eat… just do the same things you’d normally do in a restaurant. Now, you two…” the director turned his attention to the main actors, and his voice became too quiet to hear.

“We’re going to have to talk.” 

“I know.” Quirrell didn’t bother to raise his head as he replied to the raspy voice of the pale guy.

There was a moment of silence. “Well… have you got a topic for us to talk about?” the pale guy hissed.

Quirrell sighed. “Why can’t you choose the topic?” 

“Why can't you?” the pale guy almost snapped.

“Okay- Scene five, take one… Action!” The director shouted. Wow… they were filming! They were actually filming! Quirrell allowed himself to revel in the feeling of holy shit I’m in a film before he was rudely interrupted by the pale guy.

“Are those flowers on your phone case?”

So that was his attempt at conversation was it? Quirrell finally looked back up at the guy, hoping that his asshole behaviour had diminished his attraction to him, but unfortunately it didn't seem to be so. The guy’s cheekbones were still lovely, his eyes really beautiful, now he got to see them up close.

“Yes. Daisies.” Quirrell answered. The guy chuckled. “What?” Quirrell inquired through gritted teeth, starting to get really pissed now. “Everyone has something they like; my thing happens to be flowers. Got a problem with that?” The guy was silent. 

“There must be something you like, right?” The guy continued to stare at him, looking blank, bemused, and vaguely distrustful. “Oh come on, you must have something you like?!” Quirrell continued. “Some hobby, or TV show, or actor…” He trailed off into silence. The guy was staring at him with something that resembled shock now, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He gave up, and carried on reading. Wow, this was going to be a long day. 

xxXxx

Voldemort felt slightly shocked. No one ever really asked him about the stuff he liked; the feeling was alien to him. Before he could stop himself, he blurted it out. “Dancing.”

The guy’s eyes found his again. “What?”

“Dancing.” Voldemort felt stupid. He didn’t tell people that. Ever. And now he’d told some random guy he’d just met? What was he thinking?! “You asked what I like. I… like dancing.”

The guy looked very surprised for a moment, and then seemed to lower his walls a little. “Anything else?” He asked, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. So adorable.

“Zack Efron…” Oh shit, he was blushing now. Why the fuck had he just told some random stranger is most closely guarded secret? Not even Bellatrix knew about his massive crush on Zefron.

At Voldemort’s words, the guy smiled properly for the first time, looking very amused- something Voldemort picked up on very quickly. Instantly he got ready to defend himself. This guy would laugh at him, he knew he would, laugh like everyone else always did…

He didn’t. Instead, he simply continued smiling, his eyes (which, Voldemort could now see, were very pretty) glittering with amusement. 

Voldemort realised abruptly that he’d just told this guy his biggest secret, and he didn't even know his name! He held out a hand across the table (that’s what you were supposed to do, right?). “Hi, my name’s Voldemort.” 

“Hello.” the guy replied as he took Voldemort’s hand, his eyes never leaving Voldemort’s. “I’m Quirrell.”

xxXxx

The guy’s- Voldemort’s- hands felt warm and soft against Quirrell’s own. For this guy to love dancing and Zac Efron was not at all what Quirrell had expected (in fact, torturing small animals was more what he’d had in mind) but hey, he liked flowers and Jane Austen novels, so he wasn't really one to talk. Maybe they might have more in common that he’d previously thought!

Quirrell realised that he’d been grasping Voldemort’s hand for longer than could be considered normal, and he didn't want to weird the guy out or anything, so he hurriedly shook it and then reluctantly let it go. 

“So, Quirrell, what brings you here today?” Voldemort’s smile and tone of voice seemed to exude confidence, but Quirrell could sense an edge of nervousness beneath it all. Clearly he wasn’t used to being honest with people. 

Quirrell grinned back at him. “I could ask you the same question.”

Voldemort sighed. “My reason’s very dull really. I’m just here to earn money. And to get a look at what it’s actually like being in a movie, just in case the dancing thing doesn't work out. What about you though? You don’t look the acting type.”

“I’m not.” answered Quirrell. “I’m normally a teacher at the local high school, but when I heard this was happening I had to come. Not very often you get to be in a movie. Plus grading papers was driving me insane,” He rolled his eyes. Quirrell really did like his job, but sometimes it was ridiculously boring.

“You should've just given them all B minuses and been done with it.” Voldemort suggested, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Quirrell smirked, trying not to laugh. “That’s evil!”

“Well thanks, I am the Dark Lord!” Voldemort exclaimed, only realising that Quirrell would have no idea what he meant two seconds after he said it. “Oh wait, I forgot, you wouldn't know… I’m the leader of a dance group called the Death Eaters. Everyone calls me the Dark Lord at our dance school… I’m not actually evil though.”

“You sure?” Quirrell joked.

“Well, I have plotted to kill this stupid kid called Harry Potter several times. He runs this rival group called “Dumbledore’s Army.”

Quirrell looked confused. “Dumbledore is…?”

“The headmaster of the school. Potter and his friends only named their group after him to make him like them better. But we’ll beat them next time.”

“So that’ s what all the black clothes and matching tattoos are about.”

“Yeah. That was Lucius’ idea- he’s the blonde guy you might have seen practicing pirouettes before- he loves fashion and stuff.”

“Fair enough. So, we’ve covered dancing… now Zac Efron?”

Voldemort smiled. “I don’t know man, he just seems so cool and charismatic and talented… i’d trust him with my soul! What about you? Got any celebrity crushes?”

Quirrell just smiled.

xxXxx

The time seemed to fly by. Pretty soon they’d been talking for one hour, then two. There had been various camera angle changes and shouted orders from the director, but after while they’d both sort of stopped noticing. Quirrell was surprised to find that Voldemort was really fun to talk to. In the two hours they’d been talking, they’d covered loads of things, from Quirrell’s lack of celebrity crushes, to films (they both loved She’s All That, though by some insane coincidence Voldemort had never seen the beginning of it and Quirrell had never seen the end), to books (that conversation hadn’t lasted long- Voldemort wasn't exactly a big reader), to the awful hairstyle of the man sitting two tables down from theirs. Quirrell’s opinion of the guy had completely changed… again. 

“It’s so weird…” Quirrell couldn't stop smiling.

“What?” His smile was mirrored on Voldemort’s face.

“I don’t know… I've just never become friends with someone so quickly.”

“Is… is that what we are? Friends?”

“If you want to be…” Quirrell suddenly felt nervous. What if he’d completely read it wrong and Voldemort didn't want to be his friend?

“It’s just… I’ve never had a friend before.” Voldemort’s smile faltered.

“What do you mean?” said Quirrell, confused. “What about those two you were with earlier? Aren't they your friends?”

Voldemort shook his head. “They just sort of follow me. They just know me as their leader, the Dark Lord, not as… me.”

“Well that really doesn't sound good, Voldemort!” Quirrell thought back to the first words they’d spoken to each other, when Voldemort had been hostile and snarling. “Voldemort… they way you spoke to me at first… is that how you normally treat people?”

“Yeah… I guess…”

“Well… why? If you talked to them like you talk to me, I’m sure they’d want to be your friends!”

“No way! They'd just think I’m lame and leave me. It has been nice to just talk though.”

“Hey…” Impulsively, Quirrell reached over and grabbed Voldemort’s hand. “You should get better friends.”

Voldemort looked down at their joined hands and, to Quirrell’s relief, smiled. “Well… I’ve got one today.”

Quirrell squeezed Voldemort’s hand and then (reluctantly) let go. 

xxXxx

Voldemort’s hand felt cold at the absence of Quirrell’s. Holy shit! He had a friend! How the fuck had he managed that? Especially as it was someone like Quirrell! Quirrell, who was adorable and sweet and liked flowers and Jane Austen novels and… oh shit. 

Voldemort abruptly realised that… well… it was possible that he might have the tiniest crush on Quirrell. Oh shit. He couldn't have… could he? They’d only just met today! And yet he felt as though he’d known Quirrell for ages…

He found himself imagining it in spite of himself. Him and Quirrell, walking somewhere, holding hands, talking like they had today, except with forever to do it. No pressure to be the Dark Lord, just being himself, and Quirrell completely accepting him. And being able to kiss Quirrell would be pretty amazing too…

“Voldemort… you okay?” 

Quirrell’s words abruptly snapped him out of it. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good, you looked really distracted there for a minute. Anyway, the shoot’s coming to an end soon.” Quirrell’s sounded mostly okay, just… slightly regretful, and sad.

“Hey Quirrell, don’t worry! We’ll still hang out!”

Quirrell didn't really look convinced. “How?”

“Umm… give me your phone number!”

“Okay…” Quirrell grabbed some paper and a pen out of his pocket.

“Why do you have those?” Voldemort asked.

“I don’t know… I’m a teacher, it’s useful.” Voldemort was glad to see Quirrell’s smile was back. “There.” He handed the paper over. Voldemort checked the number on it, and then stuffed it in his pocket.  
“Whatever happens after this, man, it’s been a blast.”

“Yeah.” Quirrell grinned. “One crazy morning.”

“Okay everyone, we are done shooting for the day!” The director shouted. Instantly, people started getting up from their chairs, forming back into the groups they had begun in. Voldemort looked at Quirrell. He really didn't want to leave him, but Lucius and Bellatrix were already calling his name.

“I’ve got to go.” Voldemort said apologetically. “I’ll text you later!” All he wanted to do in that moment was ask Quirrell to go out with him somewhere, and yet somehow he couldn't find the courage.

“Okay…” Quirrell said, and it was like a punch to the gut.

xxXxx

Quirrell felt sick. He couldn't just let Voldemort walk away. This morning had been one of the best times of his life, and… well… his earlier attraction to Voldemort had returned, even stronger than before. He knew it was probably pointless, they were different as could be, after all, but there had been this one moment, only few minutes ago, when Voldemort had just been staring at him, staring at his lips, and maybe, just maybe…

Before Quirrell could stop himself, he was standing up and walking over to where Voldemort now stood with his two “friends”. As he got closer, he could hear Voldemort talking, and it was in that snarling, scary tone from the beginning… oh god, this was a bad idea. Quirrell knew it was a bad idea but he just couldn't stop himself. He had to say goodbye to Voldemort properly.

It was the woman who saw him first. “My Lord, who is that peon approaching?”

Voldemort turned around… and they were looking at each other. Voldemort’s features were twisted into a sneer, and for a heart stopping moment, Quirrell thought he was just going to ignore him, or worse, say something horrible…

And then the sneer was replaced by a smile, and the Dark Lord was gone, replaced by Voldemort, his Voldemort.

Voldemort reached out and held his hand (!) and Quirrell knew he was blushing slightly and he didn't care.

“This is Quirrell,” Voldemort said in his normal voice, no longer snarling, “and he’s coming rollerblading with me on Saturday.”

Quirrell stared at Voldemort. “I am?”

“Yeah, if you want…” Voldemort’s smile was gorgeous, and he still hadn't let go of his hand…

“I really do.”

“What is the meaning of this, my Lord?” The woman said, sounding shocked.

Voldemort didn't even bother to answer her, his full attention on Quirrell. “We could even go and see a movie if you want.”

Quirrell thought he was about to explode from happiness. “I’d love to.”

They didn't let go of each other’s hand for a long time after that.  
xxXxx

The end! I really hope you enjoyed this! I’ve never done a oneshot before, so I hope it’s okay! If you did like it, please tell me, i’ve got a brilliant idea for an epilogue to this that I might write at some point. In fact, even if you didn’t enjoy this, please tell me why, I love constructive criticism! Anyway, thank you for reading, I’ve got loads more QM fics I want to write, so if you’ll excuse me I think i’ll go get started on one of those :D


End file.
